


Jason Todd’s thursday night book club

by MrsOkita



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Green Arrow (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics), Robin: Son of Batman (Comics), Super Sons (Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Books, Brief mentions of Bruce and Talia, Family Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Parent Roy Harper, and Lian, established JayRoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24813775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsOkita/pseuds/MrsOkita
Summary: When Damian starts having bothering feelings for his childhood best friend, he sort of gets brotherly advice from the last person anyone would imagine: Jason Todd.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Damian Wayne & Other(s), Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Roy Harper/Jason Todd
Comments: 6
Kudos: 307





	Jason Todd’s thursday night book club

**Author's Note:**

> Since I had a lot of fun with brotherly bond time + Jondami with Richard [last time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24655498), I wanted to downscale on the second oldest brother and play with Jason too. Things quickly escalated out of my hand (see last note for that), but it’s finished, so here it goes.
> 
> Maybe I'll have something planned for Timothy later on.
> 
> On a more important note: not exactly following canon here, especially Superman's recent events regarding Superboy & a bunch of fucked up timelines of Roy Harper's difficult life (writers hate him on a constant frequency).

“The information Tim got me is that they gather around here”, Dick pointed to a specific location on an opened map of Gotham City, displayed on the Wayne Manor’s large living room table. They were planning out strategies to get to the suppliers of a gang of drug dealers, and everything led to believe that it involved upper rank politicians. “Every thursday night. So we just missed it yesterday. Next week we can…”

Dick stopped himself after shooting a glance at Damian’s face. With so many years living and fighting crime near him, he believed he got that good at reading Damian’s expression lines, even when he didn’t echoed a word of whatever bothered him. Those were usually the most problematic issues, a lot of times very personal, because otherwise Damian had no concern in expressing his distaste when he felt it.

“What’s wrong?”, Dick asked, adjusting himself upwards, a bit away from the map.

“Nothing”, Damian answered in a heartbeat. See? Sky rocket chance of very personal issue.

“Damian”. Dick paused, perhaps hoping for Damian’s defenses to crack themselves from inside out without that much of a word. But, well, he didn't have that much luck. “You can talk to me. In fact, I even _need_ you to. We’re in this case together, if there’s something for you to share…”

“It’s nothing, really”. Damian reinforced. “It’s just… I had something planned for next thursday night”.

Richard stepped further away to glance over Damian, eyebrow raised. He couldn't tell if he was more surprised or amused with that particular turn of events. So Damian had an _agenda_? Like, a personal one? That wasn’t rummaging through Gotham beating up bad guys? Now look at that.

“Is it a date?”, Dick couldn’t refrain himself from asking, because who _wouldn’t_.

"What? _No_ ", Damian was so incisive, and his face twisted so much in repulsion, that Dick believed it instantly and crossed that one out. "Who would go on a date thursday night?"

Dick shrugged. “As good a day as any other".

 _He_ went, even, many thursday nights of his life.

"I'm not _you_ ", Damian said, like he just guessed Richard's thoughts. It was an obvious disapproval. Richard fought down the urge to laugh. "Anyway. It doesn’t matter. Let’s focus back on the plan".

But Dick just _couldn’t_ because, c’mon, it was fun squeezing things out of his little brother. And if it wasn’t a date, he had close to zero notion of what could possibly be occupying Damian’s thursday night to a point that he felt bothered by canceling it to fight down corrupt politicians.

“Are you _really_ going to leave me hanging?", he pleaded. Damian frowned in response, but it was clearly less an annoyed frown than a contemplative one. He was possible having an intense internal battle of if he should give in to his brother’s curiosity or not. Not wanting to brag, but Richard had a striking win on those.

Which just added another one for the count, because Damian sighed almost imperceptibly and said:

"I'm discussing books on thursday".

Richard’s eyes went big with surprise despite himself. He did _not_ expect that.

"Like a book club?", he asked, totally unable to imagine Damian chatting along in a group of unknown people about books.

Damian narrowed his eyes, "Less vulgar than that". Richard chuckled discretely at his brother’s wording. Damian kept silence still for about five seconds until he completed, visibly vexed, “With Todd”.

The pure _sweetness_ of what Richard just heard filled his heart with warmth. He was getting old and sentimental fast. So he smiled a soft, tender smile, and cooed,

 _“Aw"_ . Damian snorted at that. “Since when?”

He saw Damian trying to dismiss it with a small shrug of one shoulder. "About five years". 

That was even more shocking than Damian saying he was discussing books earlier. Five _years?_ How come Richard never knew a word about it? He wondered if anyone else was aware, like Tim, who was decidedly closer to Jason, or maybe even Bruce. Dick wanted to question all that, if he was honest, but he knew Damian would just shut himself up, so he let him go without interruption:

"We started with Bertolt Brecht's plays when I was fourteen. You know that Todd's knowledge on books is…", Damian seemed to search for the right word to describe it, "decent".

Richard smiled wider at that, then nodded, acknowledging Damian’s awkward compliment.

“Yeah, he’s a pretty smart kid”.

* * *

Five years ago Damian stepped into that hole with a window that Jason called an apartment, full on Robin’s costume. He knew Todd always had issues with money, so there was infiltrations, and overused taco floor, and barely any furniture, because that was possibly what he could afford at the time. Damian wouldn’t sit on that couch even under torture.

There was no sign of Jason himself, even, when Damian circulated around the only room besides a bathroom and a bedroom, so that was when his eyes got caught on a heavy filled bookshelf. A lot of books about and on foreign languages, a bunch of old classics his mother and his father both had and Damian already read it - and possibly memorized a few lines - and, in the middle of it all, some authors Damian didn’t really know.

He frowned, then reached over to pick a book’s spine with a title in german: _Der kaukasische Kreidekreis_. Damian turned the book around to read the description of the play about justice, war, and motherly love, which made sense considering _Jason_ altogether.

“Demon child”. Damian heard the voice behind him, then, and he did notice the steps earlier, but just didn’t bother much to get on guard. "May I ask how did you find me?"

Damian turned around to find Jason staring at him, body leaned on the door frame to his left, red helmet under his right arm. He had no gun wielded, though, what Damian could possibly expect, since he just appeared unannounced.

“You know father keeps a track on your whereabouts that he thinks it's a secret", Damian stated, and Jason snorted.

“And are you his message deliver guy now, by chance?”

“No”. Damian declared, voice firm. “Came entirely on my own volition”.

Jason laughed, then, looking amused, which didn’t sit well on Damian because it almost sounded like he was making fun of him. And if there was one thing that pissed Damian off was not being take serious.

“It’s funny that defiant wrinkle on your forehead”, Jason said, pointing front with the leather gloved hand that wasn’t holding his helmet. “It’s just like your mother’s”.

Damian frowned deeper. "Don't talk about my mother".

But then again, there was a reason why Damian was at Jason’s without Bruce’s knowledge, in the first place. He jumped on the opportunity, maybe almost too eager,

“Have you seen her?", just that small amount of anxious, like when he was _ten_ , "Recently?"

Jason offered him a sideways smile. “Ah, so _that_ is what your little visit is about, then?”

Damian heard about recent activities of mind controlled children that Batman was after and very not discreetly sidelined Damian from. It had every mark of a Leviathan type of work and, although his mother was no longer the leader of the group for a while now, Damian still wanted to _know._ He just knew that his father would not tell him the truth if he asked, so he went to the person Damian was positive that would.

He offered no answer to Jason’s question because he was sure he didn’t need one. Jason shrugged.

"Not in the past few months, no”. Jason backed off from the door frame and tossed his helmet on the table, walking over to sit on that disgustingly worn out couch. “Sorry to crumble your hopes”. Damian was about to retort that he didn’t know what Todd was talking about when he went on, “I do miss her sometimes, though."

So the words blocked themselves on Damian’s throat, refusing to come out. He swallowed them back instead, and they tasted bitter, thick on the way down through his larynx.

“أنا أيضا”

Damian didn’t know why he spoke in arabic at all, and what difference would it make since Jason could understand just fine, what he visibly did when he stared back at him and smiled.

 _Me too_ was not what Damian had planned to say, but was what it came out, anyway.

Then Damian was brought back to his usual focus when Jason pointed at the book he didn’t realize he was still holding on his hand all throughout the entire exchange.

“Like that?”

Damian had to look back down to remember what it was about. He frowned.

"I don't think I've ever seen this in father's library". 

Jason laughed. "Oh, B is very little disruptive in his life. Even in his reading".

He got up from the couch and approached Damian and the bookshelf, pointing up to the language books and classics collections, “You’ve probably read those”. There was no time for Damian to reply that he had, indeed, when Jason pointed down, “I highly doubt those. Maybe Talia had a few…”, he stopped to consider, “Anyway, take it”.

Damian looked up at him. Jason was his tallest bother, so it was a bit annoying the whole height difference, “Uh?”

“Take it”, Jason repeated, motioning to the book still in Damian’s hands. “See if you like it. Bring me back in a month or whatever. Preferably on a thursday night, when I’m usually actually _here_ already, if you want to barge in unannounced”.

So Damian did, and when he brought back his first Brecht play he even sat on Jason’s still awful couch to discuss it, what it meant, the moral philosophy behind it, _mothers_. Jason lent him another one for another month or so, and Damian started to notify him in advance when he was coming over to talk about Jason’s books. Preferably on a thursday night, when Jason was usually actually there already.

* * *

“Let me guess it”, Jason’s voice sounded tired, gun going back to his waist when he realized it wasn’t really a threat he was facing, “You picked up my address from Bruce’s stalking files?”

Richard could have lied and said he didn’t know nothing about that, but wouldn’t they be honest, only Bruce still pretended it was a secret. He was glad that Jason was finally back, though, because he was circa of fifteen minutes already sitting on his younger brother’s broken couch and getting so bored that he started to eat what he suspected was Jason’s breakfast left on the table.

“No”, Dick remembered to answer, then, since although he _knew_ about Bruce’s track on Jason, he had his own way of getting to things. He offered his sweetest, most charming smile, “With Roy”.

Jason had just took off his red mask and was already rolling his eyes. “Talk of a big mouth”.

“Oh, you would’ve know that”, Dick teased, all crooked smile and malice. Jason pulled a chair over, near the table and across from him, and also picked up some leftovers to eat.

“And don’t you?”, he retorted, eyes down on the food instead of on Dick. It sounded a bit acid, if Dick was the one to tell. Then again, Jason _always_ sounded a bit acid.

“For your utterly surprise, I've never been with Roy _that_ way".

Jason’s eyes snapped back up to him so quick it could be funny. He did look utterly surprised, in a Jason kind of way. See that, and Richard thought he was making a joke, but maybe he was hitting a target.

“Don’t get me wrong”, he continued, tilting his head just a little to the right, “I know he cares about me a lot, and he _is_ my type, even. But I just so happen to not exactly be his".

One corner of Jason’s lips turned up on a halfway smile. Dick could see it coming, the self depreciation slash self defense teasing,

"The mighty Dick Grayson not being someone's type? How come?"

Dick stopped being exasperated by that kind of comment long time ago.

"Roy likes 'em dangerous and unbalanced”, he stopped to crunch a snack loudly with his teeth, just to make a point, then smiled widely, “Like someone I know".

And he knew he won the small battle when Jason diverted his eyes again and tried to change the course of the conversation,

"Did you come all the way here to discuss my sex life?", he inquired.

"You mean your _love_ life?", Dick pushed a little further, just for fun. Jason threw him the same look he did when he was about to put a gun against his head - even if only mentally. So Dick followed the lead of swapping the subject before he could lose Jason there, and he _had_ other matters to discuss. Quite similar ones, maybe, “No, I actually wanted to talk to you about Damian”.

He saw Jason frowning in confusion. “What about the little demon?”

Comic thing was that just like Dick still called Damian a kid, or his baby, small brother, Jason would still call him _little_ demon. Affection right there, Dick swore.

"Damian's been fidgety lately. I don't suppose it's anything related to family, and we've all been nineteen once... I guess he might be facing some _girls_ problem", Richard grabbed another snack. It was hard to know, with Damian, but he had a feeling in his gut. He caught Damian looking at his phone and _sighing_ once, passing one hand over his hair, and getting so distracted he actually jumped a bit on his spot when Richard talked to him. Nine years living around him and that was the first time Dick saw something like that. _Nine years._

“I’ve tried asking him what’s been keeping him weird lately, but I'm maybe too much of a father figure for that”, Richard shrugged, then gave a pointed look at Jason, “And I _know_ you two have been hanging with your privative book club thing".

Jason was taken aback for less than a second before rolling his eyes, "It's not a _club_ ".

Dick dismissed with his hand, “Whatever. Just wanted you to try to have a word, maybe get him to put things out of his chest, you know? Most times that kid thinks he can sort everything out by himself".

He saw Jason open his mouth to maybe counter a _can’t he?_ , but then he stopped midway and decided for,

"I'm not a goddamn confessional priest". And it was _Richard_ who turned his eyes around hearing that now. “But fine”. Maybe Jason saw Dick’s eyes widening just the marveled amount, and his smile opening in contentment, because he added right after, “No promises, though”.

Dick thought about getting up and hugging Jason in thanks, but he knew it wouldn’t be welcomed, so he was just about to say his gratitude in words when his eyes caught up on the nice painting Jason had hanged up his wall. For a place so under filled with decent furniture, the piece of fine art surely stood out.

“This is pretty”, he found himself saying, pointing up. Jason turned around to look at where Dick was indicating. “Wouldn't imagine you buying visual art, though. Always thought you were more of a literature kind of guy".

Jason went back to look front. “I am”, he affirmed. “That's Damian's. He gave it to me to _cover a bit of your ugly infiltrated wall_ , because he _hated to look at it so much_ ", Jason said, mimicking Damian’s intonations while he quoted him.

Dick’s mouth opened so wide he might’ve distended a muscle or two.

"Damian gave you his _painting?"_ , he asked, mostly rhetorically, "I can’t believe it, he never gave me one!”

Jason smirked wickedly at that. “Oh, so that’s the second time in a day that we acknowledge that I have something that Dick Grayson doesn’t?” Dick was about to question what was the first one when he remembered _Roy Harper_. It marked Jason’s heart, didn’t it? He was going to comment on it when Jason cut him, “Be quiet and let me enjoy it a bit longer".

It actually made Richard laugh. Loud and amused, head falling back. Jason joined him, and it felt great to be there, on a broken, over used couch, eating breakfast leftovers with his brother. They should definitely do this more often.

* * *

Even at night Metropolis' sky was clean and bright, almost looking like daylight, blatantly different from Gotham's permanent gloominess. Damian always felt a bit out of place in that city, like he was staining its impeccable curriculum of goodness.

He was sitting at the top of the Daily Planet building, legs hanging over the ledge, and it was a weekend, so people were down there having drinks and fun with friends. It didn’t matter much to Damian, what week day was, because that was not a life he lead on. Not even once, if he could recall; he just didn’t have mindless _unconcern_ of his surroundings.

So when the wind around him made a hush, a slightly stronger breeze lifting up the end of his cape on the floor, Damian spoke without having to turn and look:

“Took you long enough”.

“Hello to you too”, Jonathan replied, coming forward and adjusting himself to sit beside Damian. “Long time no see, great to see you again etc.”

Damian snorted. _Long time no see?_ He saw him just last week, more frequently than he saw his own family members. And that was a problem, right there. He _missed_ Jon. On a regular basis, even seeing him almost every week. Damian was having kind of a hard time with that.

He turned his head to look at his lifelong friend to find Jon staring down at the city’s movement, just like Damian was a few minutes before. The Metropolis wind of january was hitting on that constant mess of Jonathan’s hair, and thank Allah Damian didn’t have the time to _stare_ before Jon turned his head to look back at him.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I called you here?”, Jon asked, smile always plastered on his face like stuck with a permanent glue.

“Thought you were capable of come out to that on your own”, Damian replied, making Jon chuckle. But something was was off, somehow. It didn’t have the usual carefree cheerfulness Jon usually possessed.

Damian heard him take an audible deep breath and frowned just the inquiring amount. Jon’s intensely blue gaze was focused unwavering right on his eyes, right _through_ his body, like searching for something in advance of the subject he was circling around to spill.

Damian _almost_ asked, then. But Jon’s lips opened again, and he said:

“I got an offer”. Simply like that, like it explained something. Damian was still frowning, because obviously it didn’t, so Jon got himself together to complete, “For entering the Legion of Super-Heroes”.

 _Oh_ , Damian thought, frown undoing on a distinct expression of surprise and confusion. “Isn’t that…?”

“In another century, yes”, Jon replied, and his heavy breath came out again audible on the quietness of the high, empty building rooftop. Jon turned his head away to look at his own hands on his lap, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, “It could be a good experience to me, powers-wise. I could help a lot of people. Learn a lot. Meet new places...”

Jon stopped and swallowed. Damian could see the practical benefits even without Jonathan listing them. Objectively speaking, all pros and no cons. At the same time, another century was not another city. If Jonathan went, he was _gone_ , indefinitely. No weekly random meeting. No Metropolis skyline with his hair strands blowing all over the place. No piercing blue eyes staring back at him.

Maybe Damian also swallowed dry at the perspective, unable to stop himself.

“Dad thinks I should take it”, Jon spoke again, voice suddenly subdued like they were talking about someone’s funeral instead of a lifetime opportunity for growth and learning. Jon’s head lifted up again from staring at his lap to Damian’s eyes, that Damian was glad were covered by his mask because he wasn’t sure exactly if he was looking content for Jon. “Wanted to know what _you_ think”.

Well. If that wasn’t a tricky question. It somehow felt quite similar to Heretic’s sword impaling through his chest when he _died_. All heavy pain and hollowness. It was weird, and unfitting, so Damian tried his best to suffocate it down. Jon was strong and - he would never admit it out loud - a great superhero, so he deserved the recognition he was getting. Damian would know, he worked alongside him many, many times.

“What are your doubts? You should take it, of course”. The _of course_ part left his mouth like poison.

It was even more awful when he saw Jon’s lips turn upwards in a smile that was anything but happy and reassured, like that was the answer he was expecting at the same time that it was _not_. He should be revolved in glee and excitement like everything Jon ever was, but he honestly looked like he was about to cry. Damian hated that look on him.

He didn’t know what he could do to change it, though.

“Great”, Jon said, then, after what felt like hours of awkward silence. He tried to open his smile even wider like usual, but it still felt forced. Then Jon looked front again, diverting from Damian’s gaze, and clapped his hand to maybe snap both out of a transe, “Great! It will be awesome!”

It didn’t seem awesome right now, no feeling matching his words whatsoever. But Damian agreed, anyway, tentative smirk on his lips,

“I’m sure”.

* * *

Damian was late. It was not like they had scheduled hours, even because they were vigilantes, and night on streets was always unpredictable. However, Damian never showed up past ten on thursday nights, mostly because he always left Jason’s place at maximum one in the morning.

It was eleven thirty when Jason was up against the window that led to the fire escape staircase, taking the cigarette out of his lips to blow out the smoke. There was a thud on the metal step above him, and Jason looked up to the voice that resounded,

“You should quit that”, Damian said instead of a hello, “It’s bad for your health”.

“Well”, Jason inhaled the nicotine once more, “I deal with worse on daily basis”.

He threw the unfinished cigarette over the window, anyway, and made space for Damian to jump in through, walking over to the center of his living room as he spoke,

“I thought you would knock on the front door like a regular visitor”.

Jason knew Damian understood the meaning, because it had been years that he appeared on thursdays all black suit and Wayne-y, not full on hero persona, dust, and fresh red scratches.

“I was helping Richard out on a chase”, Damian retorted in clarification. That did explain things, including the late hour. Jason sat on the couch, leaving the chair to Damian, because he didn’t want any more blood that wasn’t his finishing ruining his furniture, thank you very much. He glanced over at his younger brother and wondered if things went fine on that chase at all, because although Damian looked mostly unharmed, he had a look like someone just murdered his cat.

Jason frowned slightly, remembering Dick’s visit a few days earlier. Maybe he was right; something _was_ off with Damian indeed. He refrained from asking if he was okay because he knew it was pointless, so he just went to business,

“What did you think of that one?”

Damian took Virginia Woolf’s _Orlando_ last month. He pulled out the copy from the bag across his chest and handed it back over Jason’s table.

“Acutely interesting”, Damian offered. “It portraits a distinct awareness on gender inequality and women’s roles in society. Her writing style is also-”

But then he stopped, a vibrating sound cutting off his thought process. Damian fished out his phone and stared sharply at the caller’s id. Then he put the phone on the table and let it ring. Jason frowned, his eyes deflecting almost on instinct to the name on the screen:

_Jon_

“Aren’t you going to answer that?”, Jason questioned, confused, pointing it over. He also found strange the registered contact name. He had seen Damian’s contacts once before; a lot of surnames except for Bruce’s number, which stood under أبي, _my father_. Even Dick was typed as _Grayson_. But there it was, blinking on the blue screen in white, a defiant _Jon_. No Kent, not even a full name Jonathan.

One of Jason’s eyebrow lifted up. So that was it, maybe?

“Just let it”. Damian replied, most ready to ignore his phone and go back to a fictional, perhaps easier world.

Joke’s on you, Dick Grayson, not exactly a _girls_ problem.

"You know what I find curious?", Jason said, then, before Damian could change the subject to something that would bother him less. He saw Damian raising his eyes from his phone to Jason, the vibrating sound finally stopping and leaving behind a message of _1 missed call_. "I fucked up bad in my life, people gave up on me, so I surrounded myself with the ones who also hit rock bottom, because they could partially _understand_. You also had a fucked up head since the cradle, and here you are, hanging with pure and pristine Superman's son".

Damian just heard in silence, no reply to something that wasn’t a question. Jason smiled,

"That's good. Maybe the world _is_ changing".

Then Damian spoke, like an unrequested explanation of sorts,

"Jonathan and I know each other for a very long time".

"Oh, I know", affirmed Jason, still smiling, motioning to Damian’s phone right between them, "And he hasn't walk out on you, has he?"

Perhaps that hit some nerve, because Damian almost imperceptibly held a breath.

“Jon is…”, he started and stopped in a heartbeat. The sentence was left unfinished, hanging in the air. Jason believed that Damian didn’t complete it because any way he could finish it would led into a compliment, a heartfelt definition of what Jon _was_ to him. Even the most sarcastic retort, even if he called Jon an _idiot_ , it would still be the _idiot who hasn’t left him behind._ Jason knew that feeling well.

“If he’s important, just fucking tell him”, Jason talked over the silence, “Before there’s some major unexpected catastrophe and he dies. Or you die. Again". He made a mindless gesture with his hand, “You know that sucks”.

And he could tell by the look that Damian was giving him that he did, indeed.

* * *

Jason had a preference on entering by the kitchen window instead of through the living room one. He always thought it was much less of a disturbance, especially on the dark hour of two o’clock in the morning. Not that he cared about being a disturbance, but only in that particular case scenario.

When he was walking over to the kitchen door the light was suddenly on, a red bow and arrow outstretched in his direction. He heard more than saw Roy breath out a loud sigh of recognition, lowering the weapon,

" _Christ_ , Jaybird, give a guy some warning before you break into his house", Roy exclaimed, "I have a _daughter_ , you know".

“Did I wake Lian up?”, Jason asked, concerned, looking at Roy disposing his bow and arrows at the kitchen balcony. Jason almost made a comment about there not being the right place for it.

Roy dismissed it with his hand, "Probably didn't sleep at all yet. You know teenagers, up all night on computers". Jason smiled at that, mostly because that was _Roy's_ pre-teen experience. Jason borrowed books from library to read when he was Lian’s age. 

It was also not a concern that Lian was still awake when he just barged in Roy’s apartment because she was positively used to that kind of surprise by now, and also used to _Jason_ enough that she didn’t even bat an eyelash the days she saw him at morning for breakfast. On the contrary, she smiled wide and got overly happy with the perspective of a _decent_ meal for once.

Roy moved around to the kitchen sink, "Do you want some coffee?"

One thing Jason loved about Roy was that he rarely asked the questions everyone did: what was he doing here, what did he want, did something happen. Roy just went with the flow of absolute normalcy, waiting for it to come out naturally when the person felt ready to speak.

"Isn't it a bit too late for coffee?", Jason asked.

"Is it?", Roy retorted, already putting the coffee powder in the machine. "I suppose I have no 'late for coffee' hour".

Jason sat on the chair by Roy’s kitchen table. “Then I’ll accept some”.

They waited for the coffee to be ready in silence, until Roy came over with two mugs and sat down across from Jason, pushing one coffee mug in his direction. Jason murmured a thanks, took a sip, and decided to speak up,

"Dick went to my place this week". Roy’s eyes raised from his own coffee to stare over at Jason through his eyelashes, "Said you gave him my address".

"Oops?", Roy offered, with no guilty feeling in his tone whatsoever.

Jason rolled his eyes. He remembered his and Dick’s conversation that day, and it also had another very important part involving Roy, but Jason didn’t want to go into that. It had been a hell of a revelation, he was so _sure_ of the contrary all those years.

"It appears people are worried because the demon child is _in love_ ", he told instead.

Roy’s eyes widened largely with surprised at hearing it. "Are you _kidding_ me? Who is the victim?"

Jason chuckled. "Superman's son".

 _"Wow"_ , Roy exclaimed loudly, then remembered Lian, possibly not asleep, but maybe yes, so he lowered his voice to continue, "This is getting better and better real fast. Damian is _bold._ Are they a thing?"

"Not yet". Jason replied, "Not that I know of, anyway. Damian seems a bit lost".

"Man, it feels like they were a child yesterday!", Roy said, his coffee mostly forgotten over the shocking news, "I mean, who am I to talk, my daughter might be _kissing_ _boys_ on her school".

"Or girls", Jason amended, amused.

"Yeah", Roy acknowledged, "Or girls".

Then he finally remembered to drink more of his coffee before he gave Jason a very distinct glance over. "Speaking of kissing", he lifted one eyebrow all the way up his forehead, wicked smile on his lips, "You're looking way too hot and reachable over there to be still wearing clothes".

Jason laughed. "That's a very far away from kisses topic".

Roy’s eyes widened again as if he had a sudden mind blowing epiphany, “Shit, do you think they're having sex? Our children?"

“First of all, Damian isn't _mine"_ , Jason didn’t miss the smile Roy threw his way when he didn’t say the same about _Lian_. “Second of all, I believe Lian is still too young for sex, don't worry". Jason lifted his head up to consider his thoughts for a second, "Damian is nineteen, so I wouldn't know exactly. But who cares?", he shrugged, "If he's up to face _Superman_ for getting laid, he must really be in deep".

"Bite me if I would guess Superman's _son_ would be Damian's type”, Roy appraised, still sounding amazed. “That kid is like a walking ray of sunshine for your grumpy and pretentious youngest brother".

And that topic stuck somewhere on Jason’s throat before he could swallow it down. He had engulfed once, it came along twice, so he should possibly just get out of his chest altogether.

"Speaking of types…", he circulated his already emptied coffee mug on his fingers, eyes solemnly on it before he glanced back up to Roy’s expectant face, "Dick said you two never slept together".

Roy’s eyes went as big as they did talking about Damian prior, like he didn’t anticipate that turn of the conversation _at all_.

"Why would I-?" He started, then stopped, looking unsure of from where to address the matter, " _Dick?_ You thought I've slept with him?", Jason didn't answer, but his pointed look said enough to cross his thoughts just fine. Roy laughed, amused, then decided for his usual mockery, "I suppose I get the appeal. Great person, great _ass_ , flexible", Jason rolled his eyes, "but no, nope. Never crossed me. He's not really… How can I put it…?"

"Dangerous and unbalanced?", Jason offered, an entertained smile on his lips. Roy only stared at him for a second before bursting out in laughter,

"That's Dick's words, aren't they?", He didn't need Jason's confirmation as he went on, "But I guess he has a point." He stared right into Jason's eyes with a strong meaning that Jason was used of being at the receiving end by now, but that still made him shiver in anticipation every time, "Danger and unbalance do turn me on".

Roy tapped Jason’s boot lightly with his bare foot under the kitchen table, just to make sure to get his point across. Jason smiled at him,

"So what are you waiting for to come over here and prove that?"

Roy smirked, lifting up from his chair enough to get his mouth hovering Jason’s to murmur,

"Only for you to ask me nicely".

And Roy kissed him, all warm mouth and vicious tongue, the way Jason was already so familiar with and yet still so weak about. He grabbed Roy’s long hair to keep him in place a while longer when he felt him backing off, but had to give in eventually. He didn’t really want _words_ right now that weren’t long-lasting moans, but Roy said them anyway,

"You could've asked me if you wanted to know, you know?" Jason understood the meaning perfectly, even before Roy felt the need to clarify, “About Dick".

"I know", Jason replied, surrendered, because he did. It was not exactly a rational part of his brain that kept him from it. "But let's stop talking about Dick Grayson and have a better use of our mouths, shall we?"

Roy's grin was nothing if not predatory,

"Don't need to say twice".

* * *

“I’m surprised”, Jon’s voice was stern and firm, lingering on angry. He even crossed his arms on his chest to reinforce the idea, in case his tone didn’t cover it enough, just after he pulled his bedroom window open for Damian. Damian held back a sigh and entered, anyway.

“I was under the impression that you were intentionally avoiding me”.

And he was right, Damian _was_. Not only that first call since they last spoke, that Damian blatantly ignored at Jason’s apartment, but the approximately ten others Jon attempted from that day on.

To be fair, Damian didn’t know why he was doing it. He thought that maybe if he could just cut out Jon from his daily conviviality now, it would be way less weird when he went suddenly away into another century. To be _more_ fair, he didn’t want Jon to go suddenly away into another century at all.

 _If he’s important_ , Jason’s words nested in his mind like growing weed, _just fucking tell him_.

Damian wished it could be that easy. But the words still pulled him here, now, into Metropolis, behind Jon’s window glass, into his bedroom, in front of a legitimately very pissed Superboy. Curious thing was that, even that angry, and even with that much power, Jon didn’t pose him as a danger by any means. Damian was sure his father was much more withdrawn and attentive with Superman’s moods than he was ever concerned about protecting himself from Jon.

Damian was also sure that his father was even watchful on _his_ behalf because of this. Lowering your defense, he would call it. Possibly rightfully so. Possibly he didn’t have any defense at all, as far as Jon was concerned, for too long now.

“I was”, Damian admitted, then, to Jon’s quick surprise. He realized it was not what Jon was waiting to hear when his shielding wavered, and he uncrossed his arms. Jon stared at Damian in silence as if expecting him to elaborate the reasons, which he probably should, really, but when nothing came out for a stretched long minute, Jon said,

“And?”, he put both of his hands in the pockets of his tasteless ripped jeans. “Did you come here to say anything or is this just a new way of getting on my nerves?”

“I wanted to talk to you”, Damian answered what was already very obvious. Jon raised one eyebrow up precisely to indicate that, then spoke,

“Do you want to go up?”, he took one hand off his pocket to point to the roof.

Damian nodded. “Meet you there”.

On a swift motion Damian went to the rooftop. It didn’t take more than five seconds for Jon to follow him, fluctuating just slightly before finally sitting down. They stared in silence at the same Metropolis skyline from days before, although the Kent’s house building was much smaller than the Daily Planet. Damian felt something like the start of a drizzle. He didn’t look over at Jon when he talked,

“I was thinking about you going to the Legion of Super-Heroes”.

Damian could sense Jon’s eyes on him, burning with curiosity and mild wonder.

“And?”, Jon questioned, low and calm on the dim light, an abrupt change from his irritation before. Nothing new, he never could stay vexed long enough. It could’ve been those profoundly perfectly good kryptonian genes.

“I lied”, Damian confessed, not much time after. “I wanted you to refuse”.

Against all odds, against the usefulness, the importance of it. Damian felt selfish, in a way, something he _never_ used to acknowledge.

“Why?”, he heard Jon question, then he finally turned to him, to stare directly into that ocean blue gaze. _Pure and pristine_ , wasn’t what Todd had said?

“I’ll miss you”, Damian said, _just fucking tell him_ honesty, “If you’re gone”.

He saw the movement of Jon’s chest as much as he listened to the sound of his heavy breath. “I could visit…”, Jon suggested, quietly, “From time to time. It’s not like I’ll be imprisoned there or anything”, he shrugged weakly with one shoulder.

Damian just stared at him. “It wouldn’t be enough”.

Then Jon sighed, long and drained, “Yeah…”, he agreed, “I get what you’re talking about”. He averted his eyes when he turned his head front, back to Metropolis’ landscape. “You know, I was hoping for you to tell me not to go. That day, when I told you about the offer”.

Well, that made sense, if Damian was analytical about it. Jon didn’t look the most pleased with the idea of accepting, or of going away as a whole. On the contrary, he looked the saddest Damian had seen him in a long, long while.

“So why did you ask me?”, Damian inquired, because what use could have his opinion if Jon already had _his_ on the matter, and he was the one directly implied in the situation.

Jon laughed feebly. “I don’t know. I guess…”, he looked back over to Damian, and he seemed so _vulnerable_ for someone that was an indestructible half kryptonian teenager. He smiled, “I guess I’m in love with you. And I wanted you to love me back”.

And the world kind of froze around in its place right there. No Metropolis city buzz noises below, no wind, no flying birds above. The words lingered in the space between them for Damian to catch and do whatever he pleased with it. That was perhaps why Damian wasn’t scared of being defenseless around Jonathan, because Jonathan was most of the time handing himself over to Damian just like that, in absolute trust.

Damian just looked at him in complete silence, letting the thought sink in, for what felt like whole minutes. Then he finally came around, leaned over, and kissed Jon, right on his lips.

Jon let out a sigh that was a mix of surprised and satisfied through the kiss, then his hands reached up, touching Damian’s face, keeping him there, against his mouth, all over his space. Jon tilted his head and kissed him back like he never wanted to let him go.

But then he did. He pulled away just enough to tug at Damian’s mask a bit,

“Take this off, c’mon”, and he sounded breathless; from the kiss or the slightly cold weather, Damian couldn’t tell. “I like to see your eyes”.

Damian did as told, then Jon’s lips were back on his again, and Damian felt like that passage of Jason’s Jack Kerouac’s book, in which he was mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same place, and burning, burning, burning like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop. Except that the blue was possibly Jon’s very own eyes on him, bright and happy, so Damian asked,

“And if I already do, will you stay?”

Jon smiled against his lips, the light drizzle slowly getting heavier and turning into rain, but it didn’t really matter, because Jon answered,

“Yeah”, and he seemed excited and placid, all at once, “I’ll stay”.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no control of anything I write for this family, because I swear this was supposed to be only a Jondami + Jason fic, but then Dick was making a cameo out of nowhere - he always does, I can't shake Dick off - and worrying about Jason's _love life_ (that it's not just sex life, Jason, if you're jealous of your sex partner may having slept with your older brother on a long distant past). Help me, Batman, how do we handle your children.
> 
> Edit: Oh, and I forgot! The end about Jack Kerouac is an indirect quotation of _On the road_.


End file.
